


D Sweater

by Dachi



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Am I Even Using That Tag Correctly?, Attempt at Humor, Bad Decisions, Crack Treated Seriously, Cursed, Domestic, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Fluff and Crack, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Post-Canon, Softer Than I Thought, With Worthy Results, Yuuri Katsuki Sometimes Behaves Like His Husband And I Will Go Down With This Ship, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22819744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dachi/pseuds/Dachi
Summary: He doesn't know if he is glad or scared that his prayers have been heard. Yuuri pauses for a second—ok, probably for a minute, or two—not moving his eyes away from... whatever that was in front of him.(Or: Yuuri is having a bad day and stressed, and Victor can't have that.Or: The fic nobody wanted to write, so I had to.)
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 37
Kudos: 114





	D Sweater

**Author's Note:**

> *bursts in sipping off her fourth cup of coffee of the day and gucci shades on*
> 
> I wrote this instead of sleeping, I'm valid.
> 
> Anyway, I truly have no explanation for this, other than blaming Kaz’s cat (Cali) new attire and their server. 
> 
> Thank you [Tasha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/takeitoffhemmo/pseuds/takeitoffhemmo%20rel=) for betaing this and making it readable, without judging me in the process. You saved my life, dear.
> 
> [Kaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazul9/pseuds/kazul9) for being the best cheer ever, and [Lina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linisen/pseuds/linisen) for being a ~~cursed~~ dear and lend me her brain cell when mine stopped working.

Yuuri is tired. 

The coffee that he ordered that morning had an overwhelming bitter taste, which he tried to fix with a touch of almond milk. It didn't work, and instead of ordering a new one, since Yuuri is too nice for his own good, the coffee ended up in the trash bin and his bloodstream without the caffeine his body needed to function normally. Practice didn't go as expected—he fell out of rhythm more times than not, and Yuuri _never_ did that, and Yura was exceptionally difficult, ending practice with more shouts than normal. And now a dog is peeing on his leg. Yes, _a dog peeing on his leg_. Yuuri loves dogs and this certainly feels like some personal betrayal.

As the dog walks away and Yuuri shakes his leg in hopes of getting some of the _fluids_ off, he hears the voice of an automated lady loud and clear, “Due to bad weather, the bus line twenty-three St. Petersburg will stop operating until further notice. We are sorry for any possible inconveniences.” 

Yuuri sighs, resigned to his fate. Now he has to walk home, while mountains and mountains of snow fall on the landscape of the city. _Nice_.

He takes his phone out and tries to call his husband. He has been texting him all day long, venting about every little misfortune he encountered that day, so his texts are really just mini essays with sporadic replies from Victor cheering him up and dozens of ‘I love you’s’. He needs yet to add his _wet_ accident, even if it isn't _his_ . Of course, because this is the _best_ day in Yuuri’s life, the call doesn't connect. Yuuri is angrier at the fact he won't be able to hear Victor’s reaction to his story than at the fact he can't ask to be picked up. 

However, Yuuri _did_ have the best husband in the whole word, because after five icy-cold minutes Victor’s hot pink car pulls over in front of him. 

“Hey cutie, do you need a ride?” Victor says after rolling down his window, trying to sound flirty and smug but failing completely. 

Yuuri’s heart back flips anyway because he is whipped and an idiot when it comes to him. He smiles and hurries to open the door. 

Once inside, he is greeted by that heart-shaped, warm smile that he adores. It washes the cold away from his body, filling him instead with the burning love he is used to feeling every time he so little as _thinks_ about this man. He forgets about the past 12 hours, even if the throbbing of his head and the smell coming from his right leg tells him otherwise. 

“How did you know?”

“I didn't, I just couldn't wait any longer to see you,” Victor says, like it's normal, like it's obvious. And it is, for _him_. But to Yuuri, his life is a gift, and having the love of his life return his feelings with the same intensity, is his own little miracle. Yuuri kisses him, reveling in the feeling of their lips pressed against each other for a moment, and puts his seat belt on.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Asks Victor as he turns the stationary lights off and joins the main road, heading home. “I can smell it from here.” He smirks, the playful tone on his voice clear as day. 

Yuuri narrows his eyes. “I'll have you know it wasn’t me. A dog thought my leg was too cold and was kind enough to warm it up.” He frowns, crossing his arms and looking outside the window. “Besides, it isn't _that_ much. It was a brief meeting.”

“The dog left before you could pet him, didn't he?” 

“He did!” He throws his arms up, giving up his annoyed facade. “He used me as a fire hydrant, the _least_ he could do was stay a moment and let me gush about him before storming off,” the whine escapes out of his mouth, Yuuri’s devastation evident on his face.

Victor, beautiful Victor, giggles at his suffering. “Heartless.”

“Ruthless.”

“How dare he.”

“Makka would never.”

“No, she would make sure she steals hearts and gets all the pats before leaving.”

“She has class.”

“We taught her well.”

“So proud. I’m going to cry.”

Both break into a fit of laughter. Yuuri rests his forehead on Victor’s shoulder trying to control himself while Victor tries his best in not killing the both of them as he quickly wipes Yuuri’s laughter tears. 

Yuuri sounded just like—

“I’m rubbing off on you,” Victor echoes Yuuri’s thoughts and gives him a little peck on his head. “What a tragedy.”

“There are worse things in life.” He was cuddling Victor’s arm, his arms wrapped around it tight. 

Yuuri might be laughing right now, but he was on the verge of tears seconds before Victor saved him. He usually didn’t let these types of _things_ get to him, not unless they happened because of his actions or mistakes. But today was just _ridiculous_. He feels like a ticking time bomb, waiting for one more thing to happen before blowing up. 

Thankfully, the comfortable silence that fills the inside of the car is helping soothe his mood. Yuuri notices Victor shift on his seat, as if trying to have more room or settle in a more comfortable position, and he wonders if it was uncomfortable for Victor to drive with only one hand. When he tries to move and seat properly, Victor shakes his head and holds his hand to make him stay put, running his thumb back and forth on top of Yuuri’s hand. Even when Victor shifts a little more, he doesn't move an inch. 

He is woken up by whispers in his ear and a soft hand delicately caressing his face. 

“Yuuri, love, we’re home.” Victor lifts his chin with a tenderness that makes Yuuri hold his breath and kisses him slowly, trying to bring Yuuri back to the land of the living without startling him. 

“Mmm. Carry me.” He mumbles, even without opening his eyes he could sense Victor’s lips mere centimeters away from his. He takes a leap of faith and kisses him again with eyes closed before leaning back, making grabby-hands at him. _‘How old was he? Seven?’_ He honestly didn't care he sounded like a spoiled kid, not when Victor clearly didn't care either, giggling amused. 

“Not only talking like me but acting like me, I see.”

“Is that a challenge?” Yuuri huffs.

Victor stifles a laugh. ‘Game on’ Yuuri thinks as he hears him get out of the car and open his door, feels his arms dive underneath his figure and lift him up like he weighed less than a feather, like Victor carried Yuuri around princess style on the daily. And he would, if Yuuri let him, for sure.

Yuuri licks and nibbles Victor’s neck, making the trip to their apartment take longer than it should. When they reach the door, a shiver rocks Victor’s body when Yuuri licks a sensitive spot, making him miss the key lock entirely. 

“Yuuri.” His name more a moan than a warning.

“I’m just acting like you, remember?” Yuuri tries to sound as innocent as he can, just like his Vitya would. 

Victor groans and unlocks the door, turning around and pushing it open with his back before closing it with a kick, all with Yuuri up in his arms. ‘Ok, that’s hot’ Yuuri thinks, his cheeks turning a rich, light pink. He knew Victor was strong, the vivid memory of his then fiancée lifting up and carrying multiple boxes full of Yuuri’s mangas and games when he moved to Victor’s apartment, at a time, still fresh in his mind. But this is his first time noticing Victor was strong enough to do almost _whatever_ with Yuuri safely in his arms.

He doesn't notice he is holding his breath until Victor settles his eyes on his, blue almost gone and black taking over. _Something_ takes over and Yuuri suddenly needed to be on his knees, _now_. 

“Put me down, Vitya.” He pleads with a voice thicker than his own, product of his rapidly growing desire. 

Victor complies. As soon as his feet touch the floor he goes down and stares mesmerized at the surging bulge in Victor’s pants. It looks painful and _delicious_ and Yuuri wants it in his mouth. He opens his mouth wide and places it on top of the bulge, giving it a teasing lick before stopping. Something felt _off_ . Even with his pants on, it felt like Victor’s cock was buried in _several_ layers of clothing. And last he knew, Victor was a public promoter of the Thongs For Undies propaganda, so even if he had underwear on—which he doubted—the thin, fine fabric wouldn’t make it feel like there was _wool_ in between. Yuuri gives an exploratory poke at it with his finger, like a kid would use a stick to poke something they don't want to touch, and frowns. Soft. It was _soft_. He’s damned sure Victor was rock hard. ‘What’.

He glances up, demanding an explanation from the most beautiful sight he has ever seen. The beautiful sight’s response was a raised eyebrow and an _expectant_ but a little embarrassed grin. ‘Oh no’. 

Last time Yuuri saw that grin, Victor had ordered some temporary tattoos online from a… questionable brand. He had come back home to a naked Victor facing down on the bed, bare butt tilted up. ‘Property of Katsuki-Nikiforov Yuuri’ and ‘Ravish me, darling’ could be read, one on each cheek, black and bold ink making fun of him. Yuuri had laughed and ravished him left and right—Victor Katsuki-Nikiforov was naked offering himself, he was only mortal—and brushed it off. After weeks of the tattoos just _not coming off_ , Yuuri took it upon himself to read the directions. And warnings. Yes, _warnings_. Turns out, the tattoos became semi permanent if left too long, and his Vitya, lovely, incredible, impulsive Vitya, hadn’t deemed necessary to read said warnings before buying. Yuuri had never been more embarrassed in his life than when they had to sit for 3 hours in a laser removal place, a specialist on skin in tow. 

Needless to say, he was more fear than human, cold sweat already pooling on his lower back. 

Victor did _something _and Yuuri just prays it's not something that needed permanent removal again.__

____

____

He shoves giving his husband the most mind-blowing blow job ever to the back of his mind as he unbuckles the belt and zips down the fly, pulling down Victor’s pants in one fluid wrist snap. 

____

____

He doesn't know if he is glad or scared that his prayers have been heard. Yuuri pauses for a second—ok, probably for a minute, or two—not moving his eyes away from... whatever _that_ was in front of him. 

____

____

Slowly, so very slowly, he sits down and finally decides that he needs an explanation, so he locks eyes with the most unpredictable person he has ever met. They stare at each other for a few seconds before bursting into mad laughter for the second time that day. 

____

____

Yuuri can’t control his body, his breathing ragged, air barely making way through and reaching his lungs, his stomach is experiencing a painful death that no amount of hands pressed against it could soothe and his tears are rolling down his face unbidden. Before he knew it, he was laying on the floor, laughing harder than he could remember. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a wheezing _living legend_ , blush so red that it can’t be considered a blush anymore, legs losing strength and sliding down on the wall so he sits next to Yuuri. 

____

____

“Where did you even find that?” Yuuri barely manages. He has never experienced something more difficult than it was to say those words. His laughter is still washing in wave after wave with no sign of stopping anytime soon. 

____

____

“I knitted it.” Victor answers, trying and failing on taking a deep breath. 

____

____

“You _what_?!” His laughter is stronger now, if that was possible. This is it, this is how he was going to die. Next to the only man capable to murder him with laughter. It is a perfect way to die, honestly. “Oh my god. Stop. Please. Have mercy. I can't take anymore.” His head is getting dizzy. 

____

____

Victor’s face is beautifully soaked, his smile so wide that he fears his face muscles won't ever be the same anymore, and Yuuri has never been happier in his life. He can't remember the last time Victor _cried_ out of laughter, if there was any. Seeing it for the first time was creating a hunger in him he didn’t know he was capable of. He wanted to see this scenario play out more times in the future. 

____

____

“Victor, if you wanted something to warm up your dick you _do_ realize you have me, right?” 

____

____

He pouts, but the glee still very present in his eyes, not one bit gone, “You weren’t here, and I was cold.”

____

____

Yuuri can only amusely ask, “How, and dear lord, _why_ , did you learn to knit Willy Warmers?” 

____

____

“It was a rather harsh winter, I was 16, lonely, and _bored_. I found a book in Yakov’s personal book collection and decided it could come in handy in the future.” Victor says matter of factly and nods as if confirming to himself that it indeed came in handy. He looked very proud of himself. 

____

____

His idol, the being he had been obsessed with and admired profoundly, knew how to knit dick sweaters. He was never forgetting this, forever embedded in his brain. 

____

____

“Ok, but why the Eros costume pattern? Now I won't be able to see that piece without thinking about your dick with an Eros sweater.” Yuuri loved that costume, Victor was going to _pay_.

____

____

“You’re welcome.” That grin is back and Yuuri just wanted to kiss it away and wreck his husband like he intended to before he wrecked him with something he will very gladly burn. Victor had burned his tie anyway. An eye for an eye and all that jazz. “But the real reason is, I just wanted to cheer you up.”

____

____

All his vengeance planning came to a halt the moment those words left his mouth. “Huh?”

____

____

Victor shrugs. “You had been having a very bad day, and I can't have my Yuuri being miserable. So I did what needed to be done.” He slightly tilts his head to the side like a puppy waiting for praise, and smiles. “Aren't I the best husband ever?” 

____

____

The knot in his throat that he has been feeling since the early hours of that morning finally untangles and exits his body in the form of drops that he, _again_ , can't contain. But this time for a very different reason. Victor did all of this so Yuuri could forget about his day. And it worked, because he hadn’t thought about it since the moment he caught sight of those drowning eyes that he loved so much. Victor did all of this for Yuuri, because he loved him. Sometimes Yuuri forgets, but Victor reminds him every time, in any possible way. How revealing, in the most beautiful way; Yuuri had wanted to act just like Victor today, be spoiled just a little like he usually did when Victor had a bad day, but he would _never_ be like Victor. No one could ever be like Victor. 

____

____

Deep down he _knew_ , now understanding his earlier sudden need to give Victor pleasure. He wanted to give back what he was receiving, he wanted to love because he was being loved, he wanted to care because he was being cared for. He can feel that need getting louder and louder by the minute. “I still want to give you a blow job.”

____

____

Victor snorts and wipes Yuuri’s tears down, kissing his eyelids once, twice, three times each. “And I still want to receive it.” 

____

____

“I wanted to burn this thing, but now I feel weirdly attached.” Yuuri grimaces, taking the root of either a trauma or a questionable kink off the object he was going to focus on for the rest of the night. ‘Please god, let it be the former’. 

____

____

“Burn it. Cut it. Yeet it into the void. I can always make another one just for you.” Victor kisses him long and deep and hard, his half-hard dick getting fuller with each brush of their tongues. 

____

____

“Please, dont.” He says before forgetting what they were even discussing, their bodies being the only ones warming each other up for the rest of the night. 

____

  
  
  
  
  
  


____

**Author's Note:**

> Ps: Victor actually looked up the weather that morning and came to the conclusion that the bus lines were going to stop working. But he did miss Yuuri immensely so he went pick Yuuri an hour before Yuuri was even done.
> 
> I was going to link what a Knitted Willy Warmer looked like, but I love you so I won't do that to you. Search at your own risk.


End file.
